Consequences
by Sister Coyote
Summary: By the time Tseng arrived at the scene, it was already all over. Turks. Implied Reno/Tseng.


By the time Tseng arrived at the scene, it was already all over.

Amidst the sirens and the crowd, Reno blended surprisingly well for someone in a wrinkled suit with notable hair. He looked like a demon in the light of the burning building; the greasy red oil-flames cast his face in sharp lines of light and planes of shadow. He looked _hungry_.

Rude, a half-hundred yards away on the street corner, looked distraught. Actually he looked stoic, but he generally did; this was the flavor of stoic that indicated serious unease. "Sir," he said, when Tseng approached.

"Rude," he said. "Situation."

"We were midway through the interrogation when the charges," Rude paused for a hairsbreadth, "went off."

Tseng noticed both the pause, and the passive-voice construction. "Went off."

"Yes, sir."

"All by themselves?"

Rude's expression went, if anything, more blank. It was one of the unfortunate side-effects of the way Turks partnered: even when it was glaringly obvious who was responsible for an . . . issue, the other partner would take responsibility as well. The fire had 'Reno' written all over it, but Rude wasn't going to help him confirm that.

"Circumstances," he finally said.

"Attempt to bluff the subject with threat of explosives. Subject called the bluff. Fire was a result of the follow-through." Rude was a master of sentences-with-no-discernable-subject, but then, he had a lot of practice.

Ah. Tseng could see it now, in his mind's eye: Reno snarling in his half-crazy way that if the subject didn't talk they'd blow the building to kingdom come and leave him to burn; subject announcing that there was no way they'd do _that_, Reno hitting the trigger in a moment of mad bravado. "I see. The subject?"

"After the explosion, Reno was able to get the necessary information from him. Afterward we terminated him and disposed of the body in the fire." Firelight reflected in the mirrors of Rude's sunglasses.

Tseng grunted. That counted for something. The first and most important measure of a Turk's success was simple effectiveness. Nonetheless—"Kindly tell Reno that I would like to see him in my office at eight A.M. sharp tomorrow."

Rude's lips compressed. "Sir—"

"I understand what you're doing, and why, but I'm hardly that much of a fool."

Rude's mouth might, possibly, have briefly lifted at the corners. "Yes, sir."

He chose to let Reno stew a little, the next morning—once he was sure that Reno had entered his office (at 8:05, but that was within tolerable bounds, for Reno), he himself took his time getting coffee, so that he didn't enter the room until 8:15. Reno slouched, eyes narrow and opaque, one foot on the desk pushing his chair back so that it teetered on its hind legs.

"Tell me what happened last night," Tseng said as he came around to sit behind his desk.

Reno gave him a sideways look that clearly said _You already know what happened_, but he didn't try to argue. He let his weight fall forward so that all four legs of the chair hit the floor at the same time, and when he spoke his voice was crisp (because he _was_ a very good Turk, appearances notwithstanding). "Apprehended the subject at 21:05 hours. Rude and I proceeded with the interrogation. Attempted to use the presence of charges around the building foundation to threaten the suspect. He called the bluff. The only way to maintain the necessary level of intimidation was to detonate them. We were never in any danger—I laid the charges myself, I knew what parts of the building would go up first."

"I can't fault you for your skill at demolition," Tseng said. "I can and will fault you for using high explosives as an interrogation tactic."

"Not like we've ever minded making a mess, boss." Reno's foot wound up on his desk again, and he decided not to protest it.

"Mess, no. Unnecessary mess, yes. This will require a cover-up, and given the loss of life there will doubtless be an inquiry, and it's an expenditure we didn't need. Before the Disaster, maybe, but now—"

"I get it," Reno said. "No more blowing up buildings without a good reason. Sir."

"—besides which, even for someone with your skill at demolitions, use of explosives isn't entirely predictable."

"S'what I like about 'em."

"We can't risk losing you _or_ Rude at this juncture. We're understaffed as it is. In the future, consider the consequences before you act."

Reno gave him a lazy salute. "That it, boss? Do I get a pay dock? Official reprimand?"

"No, and no—"

"Suck your cock to make up for it?"

He didn't allow Reno's offer to startle him, although it did bring up the brief vivid image of Reno stretched out among his bedsheets, bony limbs and pale skin and the long whip-tail of hair brilliant against the white cotton. What he said was, "No, Reno." There was a great deal of fraternizing in this job; it was inevitable, given the circumstances. But he did his best not to allow the one to bleed into the other. Especially not in his position. "Not as a reprimand."

Reno cocked his head, eyes opaque again, unreadable. "Suit yourself," he said. "We done here?"

"Quite. Just—"

"Be careful." Reno saluted again, shrugged himself up out of the chair. "I know. I will, boss."


End file.
